Breakdown, Build Up
by Upside-Up
Summary: But that’s how it works out sometimes, you suppose. You broke down, and he was there." Quinn/Artie friendship, Artie/Tina fluff.


"My parents kicked me out."

You thought that saying it out loud would make it more true. You thought that telling someone would be humiliating. You thought saying it might help, somehow. Really, it doesn't change a damn thing. You still feel empty and scared and alone. But now, at least, there's someone who knows.

The fact that that someone is Artie Abrams is a little weird; the fact that his thumb running over your knuckles is actually helping is weirder.

But that's how it works out sometimes, you suppose. You broke down, and he was there.

"You can stay with me," he offers, and you almost decline. There must be a million other people who will take you in who aren't Artie Abrams, the boy who's torment you encouraged your entire high school career.

Then you realize how untrue that is. You're not a Cheerio anymore. Finn's mom doesn't know, and Puck, well… You realize that Artie is your best option.

"Randy is in college now, so we have a spare room, and Mel would kill to have a girl in the house." Everything he's saying makes sense and you still don't say anything.

You just lean over and hug him awkwardly, getting tears on his shirt.

You feel incredibly guilty, as usual nowadays, when you grab your overflowing backpack after glee club and head for Artie's van instead of Finn's car. Not because it's a betrayal of your boyfriend, _that_ you're already used to, but because Artie is so damn sweet, and you're a jerk.

How many times had you stood by and watched, laughed even, when the football team stole his chair or shoved him in a porta-potty? How many slushies had you bought specifically so some jock could throw it in his face?

And now here he was, safe as houses, bringing you home to his family. Because your family doesn't want you anymore.

As soon as he pulls up to his house (you can't get over how cool the hand-controls in his van are and can't help but make at least one Pimp My Ride reference) you remember the handful of times you've been there.

His seventh birthday when he found out you couldn't swim, he stood in the shallow end with you so you wouldn't be alone. The few times his mother babysat you, he let you have first choice of the cookies you'd baked together. After his accident, when his mother threw what seemed like a "look how normal and fine everything is" party, he showed you his tree house and let you climb it while he watched from the ground, faking that big smile.

And here he is again, after everything, being sweet.

You grab his chair from the back of the van and set it up so he can plop into it from the driver's seat. You shrug on your incredibly heavy backpack and push him up the ramp to his door.

His house smells like someone's been cooking. Mrs. Abrams steps out of the kitchen to greet him. She's halfway through saying "Dinner is in ten minutes," when her eyes drift to you and she stops.

"You going to introduce your friend?"

Mrs. Abrams is just how you remember her: rosy, plump, with perfectly quaffed dark hair and crows-feet wrinkles around her eyes that show how much she smiles. She's a hug personified.

"Mom, you know Quinn."

Her mouth drops open and you give a little wave. "Hi Mrs. Abrams."

"Oh! Quinn! Quinn Fabray, look at you! Oh I always knew you were a pretty child but you've grown up so beautifully! Will you be staying for dinner?"

You stand there awkwardly and look at Artie. "Quinn's parents kicked her out, mom," he says, like it's no big deal. Like your world hasn't crumbled under you. "I told her she could stay with us."

There's a split second when you're terrified she'll say no. She has to know that you and Artie aren't friends. Or… weren't friends up until recently. She has to know the torment you have put her son through in the past. She has to know that you're the pregnant head cheerleader and sinning Christian.

"Of course dear, you can take Randy's room. I'll get you some fresh linens and a towel-" before she can finish you've thrown your arms around her and are hugging her like your life depends on it. She rubs your back and you hear Artie roll into the kitchen behind you.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Abrams," you say, trying not to cry.

"Of course, dear," she says, squeezing you once more before letting you go. "I hope you like lasagna."

"Randy's room is upstairs," Artie calls from the other room. "First door on your right."

You take this as a signal to go put your things away and you head up the stairs. They're specially-equipped with a chair on a rail to bring Artie up and down and this makes you smile. This house has love in it.

You set your bag down in Randy's old room (your new room) and look around you. It's very bare, but there are still a few of Randy's old baseball trophies on the shelves and photographs of various people stuck into the edges of the mirror on the chest of drawers. There's one that catches your eye; in it, Randy and Artie are in the pool, goggles on, arms wrapped around each other, smiling at the camera. Artie looks to be about nine or ten in the photo (you deduce that he must have been nine, because he's standing) making Randy twelve or thirteen. They look happy. Artie's smile looks genuine.

"Dinner!" Artie's mom calls from downstairs and you realize that you're starving. When you get to the table Artie and Mel are already seated; Artie sits at the head of the table where the dining room meets the kitchen (more room to move) and you snag the spot across from his sister.

She smiles a huge, gap-toothed smile at you and beams, "Hi Quinn!"

"Hey Mel," you say, shifting in your seat. "How's it going?"

"I lost another tooth today. It bled on my desk and my teacher almost fainted." She says this with the utmost seriousness and you stifle a laugh, putting on your most serious face.

"Are you going to give it to the tooth fairy? I hear teeth are pretty lucrative nowadays."

Artie laughs from beside you. "The only thing worth investing in anymore," he agrees.

Mel just nods and says "last time I got a dollar. But this is my front tooth, so I think I might get more for it!"

You can't help but laugh at the girl's logic.

"Don't get your hopes up, Mel," Artie says, "we are in a recession after all."

Mrs. Abrams bustles in and places the lasagna on the table and it looks delicious.

"Here we go, kids. Sorry Mr. Abrams couldn't be here, Quinn. He's in Chicago on business." You feel bad that you don't know what he does, but you smile and tell her that it's okay. You'll see him when he gets home.

You're surprised at how fun dinner with Artie's family is. Dinner at your house usually consists of tense silence, arguing, or forced conversation. Here you… _laugh_. And smile. And the food is fantastic.

You're helping Artie with the dishes when the phone rings. Mel answers it upstairs and calls down, "Artie! It's for you! It's your GIRLFRIEND!"

Artie rolls his eyes and picks up the line in the kitchen. "Hey, Tina."

You listen to his entire side of the conversation because, well, you're doing dishes and it can't be helped. He explains that you're staying with him and talks about his day. There are long pauses as he listens to her and he gets this smile on his face you've never seen before. He invites her over for dinner the next day and then says goodbye and returns to dry the accumulating dishes.

"I didn't know you and Tina were dating." You state.

He scoffs a little. "We're not. Mel's just… well, Mel's seven."

"You like her though, right?"

He blushes and shrugs and focuses on the bowl he's drying a little too hard.

You do your homework together at the kitchen table. He helps you with your biology homework and you edit his essay on The Tempest and you feel a little better about your situation than you did before. You feel a little safer.

Later you watch American Idol. Then you watch Mel pretend she's on American Idol and laugh so hard you almost choke on a piece of popcorn. She throws a tantrum when it's bed time and you promise to give her a manicure tomorrow if she goes quietly.

Artie reminds her about the tooth fairy and she all but sprints upstairs. Mrs. Abrams goes to tuck her in and it's just you and Artie.

"What do you want to watch?" he asks as the show's credits roll and commercials start.

You tell him you don't care and pause. Then, "Artie?"

"Yep?" His eyes are on the TV and he's lying on the couch, legs in front of him, button-up shirt replaced with a comfy hoodie and socks mismatched. He looks so normal. You kick yourself for the thought. He _is _normal.

"Thank you. For letting me stay here. Your family is so great and I really don't know what I would have done if I hadn't come here. I can't stay at Finn's and… just… thanks, okay?"

"What are friends for?" he says, and he's still looking at the TV. Always like everything is no big deal.

You watch Dancing With The Stars before turning in. You pause at the foot of the stairs. Artie's room is on the main floor and you feel like you still haven't thanked him enough.

He looks at you. "My mom put clean linen on your bed, don't worry."

You lean over and hug him for the second time today; for the second time ever, and he rubs your back a little hesitantly.

"Good night," you call as you bound up the stairs.

"Night, Quinn," he calls back before wheeling to his room.

The next day you wake up to an already bustling Abrams household. Mrs. Abrams is long gone and a freshly-showered Artie is in the dining room in his pajamas combing Mel's hair into pigtails while she sits on his lap eating cereal and humming cheerfully. The TV in the living room is blasting cartoons. You stumble into the room half-asleep and groggy and he points you toward the kitchen where there is a selection of breakfast options and a hot pot of coffee.

You grab a package of Pop Tarts and a glass of orange juice and join Artie and Mel at the table.

"There's coffee in there if you want some," Artie offers and you just shake your head.

"No thanks. I don't drink coffee and anyway, I think caffeine is bad for babies."

He nods. "We also have a toaster."

You look at the food in your hand and smile. "I like them better un-toasted."

"Duly noted," he replies and takes a sip of his own coffee with his free hand before refocusing on the task at hand.

Mel finishes her cereal, leaving odd-coloured milk in her bowl, and squirms out of Artie's lap.

"I want Quinn to do my hair!"

"Aw, Mel, I was almost finished! And Quinn is eating her breakfast. Come back here."

"Quinn is a girl and she will make my hair prettier than you will," Mel states, crossing her arms across her chest. You smile.

Artie starts to protest but you stop him. "It's fine, Artie. I'll do her hair, I don't mind."

"Thanks," he replies. "I'm useless at pigtails anyway. Shower's down the hall."

He takes his coffee cup and wedges it between his knees and wheels himself to his room to get dressed.

You're finished your Pop Tarts and Mel's hair by the time he emerges looking like the Artie you're used to. You look at the time and decide you don't have time to shower and make a mental note to set an alarm tomorrow. You head to the state-of-the-art bathroom (with its enormous wheel-in shower) to brush your teeth and comb your hair as Artie helps Mel into her jacket.

You get dressed quickly and you're slipping on your shoes and trying not to think about the fact that you're not wearing your Cheerios uniform when Artie comes back from seeing his sister to the bus.

"Ready to go?" he asks and you look at your watch.

"It's only quarter after eight," you observe, "isn't that a little early?"

"Nope," he wheels into the kitchen and pours some coffee into a travel mug, "gotta pick up Tina on the way."

You wait patiently as he pulls himself out of his chair and into the driver's seat of the van. You place the chair in the back and wonder how he does this on his own. The chair folds down small though, and he must have a decent amount of arm strength from wheeling himself around for years, so you assume he manages somehow.

Tina is waiting outside when you pull up and you realize you've never seen her house before; never even thought about it. It's huge, bigger than yours, and dark. There are no cars in the driveway. The matchmaker in you decides that you should vacate the front seat so you hop in the back and Tina takes your place.

"Hey Artie," she says as she buckles up, "hey Q-q-q-quinn."

Artie hands her the coffee he brought and your inner romantic goes 'awww,' as he pulls out of her driveway and heads to school. The three of you listen to Billy Idol and you smile a little when Tina plucks a stray thread off of Artie's sweater vest.

School is surprisingly normal. It strikes you as odd, since your whole life has experienced such an upheaval, but nobody knows you've been kicked out yet and you coast through the day.

At lunch time you tell Finn and you cry, cry, cry and he offers to let you stay with him. You scoff and brush him off and tell him you've already got a place to stay. He seems relieved; even more so when you tell him who you're staying with. He thinks you should tell Mr. Shue or Ms. Pillsbury but you tell him no.

Secretly, you hope your parents will miss you and tell you to come back home and you want them to do this on their own, not because the school called them.

There's no glee club tonight and Finn offers to help you pick up the rest of your stuff before your parents get home from work. You agree and tell Artie you'll see him later.

Your house is empty when you get there, and you ram as much of your crap into a duffel bag as fast as you can while Finn watches. It's funny, considering how much you want to go home, how much you just want to get in, get your stuff, and then get the hell out.

Finn asks you over for dinner but you decline. It seems rude to disappear on your second night at the Abrams'. He drops you off and kisses you in that distracted, 'I've-got-other-things-on-my-mind' way of his and you lug your bag up to the door and knock.

Mrs. Abrams answers and smiles at you. "Oh sweet heart, you don't need to knock. Just come on in next time."

You nod and thank her before hauling your bag up to your room. You plop it on the bed and decide to deal with it all later.

Back in the kitchen, Tina is puttering about helping Mrs. Abrams make dinner, while Artie sits at the table playing UNO with Mel, chancing the occasional glance toward the kitchen. The Beatles' "Love Me Do" is playing on the small stereo and everyone is humming along. When Mel sees you she forgets about the game she's playing and runs at you, tugging on your blouse.

"Quinn! Quinn! Did I tell you the tooth fairy left me a dollar AND a quarter? I told you front teeth were better! Are you going to paint my fingernails? Because remember you promised you would if I went to bed and I went to bed."

You crouch down to her level and take her hands in yours. "I most definitely will do your nails after supper. And maybe Tina will do your hair, how does that sound?"

Mel's face breaks into a classic Artie smile and she runs over to Tina and her mother in the kitchen. "Tina, if you do my hair can you make some of it blue?"

Tina looks at you, smiling, and tells Mel she'll do her very best, stuttering a little on the B.

Dinner (stir fry this time) is delicious again, and you, Tina and Artie make short work of the dishes before heading to the living room. You have an assignment due in a couple of days, but Tina grabs "The Princess Bride" off the shelf full of DVDs and you can't help but get drawn in.

Mrs. Abrams busies herself in the kitchen while you sit on the loveseat with Mel, painting her nails a vivid blue. Artie is again sprawled on the couch, but this time with his legs draped over Tina's lap. She worries the corduroy of his pants and he makes excuses to touch her arm; to keep his hands close to hers.

You realize you've never watched them this closely before. They really do like one another. The only person you've watched lately is Finn, and really only because you can tell something is off. Something is weird with him and it gets weirder every time Rachel Berry sings. You try not to think about it too hard (you try not to think about anything too hard) and focus on the movie, Mel's tiny fingers, and the way Artie and Tina interact.

By the time the movie ends, Mel's hair is in twelve hilarious pony tails, your fingernails are the same bright blue as hers, and Tina has adjusted herself so that she's lying down beside Artie, squashed between him and the back of the couch. You go 'awww' in your head and mentally roll your eyes at their denial.

Tina sits up and stretches before fawning over Mel a bit, complimenting her new look. Mel seems very pleased with herself and runs to the kitchen to show her mom.

"I think I should be g-g-g-getting home," Tina yawns, "I have homework and my dad emailed me and said he might call later."

Artie nods and you get the distinct impression that he's not the biggest fan of Tina's dad.

"Plus the p-p-p-p-place is a sty and my mom is coming home tomorrow."

"Yeah? For how long?" Artie asks as he lifts himself back into his chair.

"A couple of days," she answers, "at least until the weekend." She frowns a little and Artie rubs her arm comfortingly. You feel like you're missing something, but it isn't your business to pry.

"Well, I'm going to take Tina home," Artie says, wheeling his way toward the door, "you want to come for the ride?"

You look at Tina and she's giving you the international girl look for 'say no,' so you do. Mel asks you to read her a story and you agree, following her bobbing pony tails to her incredibly pink room. At the top of the stairs you pause and look back to see them both smiling like idiots. You can't remember the last time you smiled like an idiot.

When Artie gets home Mel is asleep, Mrs. Abrams is on the telephone in the kitchen and you're doing homework at the dining room table.

When he takes his place at the head of the table, you pause, look up at him, and smirk.

"Why don't you just ask her out?"

He blushes and looks down at his books.

"Because-" but he gets but off by his mother.

"Arthur, your father wants to speak to you," she calls over.

He looks at you and smiles. "Saved by the paternal bell."

He talks to his dad for a bit and you can hear him laughing. A little pang of jealousy runs through you. You love his family. He comes back after talking to his dad and clearly hopes that he's avoided the whole Tina topic.

You are not willing to let it go. For some reason, you're fascinated by them. And you can't help but think some people just deserve a little happiness.

"So?"

"So, what?" he says to his text book.

"Why don't you ask Tina out? She's clearly into you."

He laughs and you can't help but think there's a tinge of sadness to it. "Ugh… because… because she's my best friend and we're in Glee together and if I mess it up it'll just be weird and I won't have a best friend or Glee anymore. So, yeah. That's why."

"Or…" you smile, "it works out, and you have a best friend in Glee club that you get to make out with."

He blushes again, which is adorable, and shakes his head.

"You like her though, don't you?"

He nods and blushes deeper.

"Well then you should do something about it!"

"Maybe," he mutters and you let the subject drop for now.

A month passes and you find yourself feeling better about everything. Finn is still looking at Rachel _that way_ but you're ignoring it for the most part. Your belly is slowly expanding. It's barely noticeable but _you_ notice it. Do you _ever_ notice it.

You have fallen into routine with Artie's family, glee, dates with Finn. You're delighted to learn that Friday nights at the Abrams' house is taco night, and that Sundays do not consist of stiff church services and tense silences. You nudge Tina and Artie ever closer and despite your screwed up relationship and the little stranger growing inside you, you feel almost happy.

Then, while Tina is combing your hair during a screening of Ghostbusters II one Thursday night, your phone rings. It's your mom. You take it into the kitchen but you can feel Mrs. Abrams' eyes on you. To your horror, your mom isn't asking you to come home. She's worried, and she wants to make sure you're going to church and to the doctor and that you're okay (in _that_ order). You tell her you miss her and daddy and she sighs and says "you made this bed, sweet pea, you're gonna have to get used to it," and hangs up the phone.

You try to sit and watch the movie but you can't see through the tears in your eyes. You excuse yourself to the washroom and splash water on your face before going into the kitchen to look for something to eat; something to distract yourself. You hear footsteps behind you and before you can stop you've flung your arms around Mr. Abrams and he's patting your hair and shushing you kindly. You let everything out, (everything) and he just acts how you assume a real dad acts in these situations.

You like Artie's dad almost more than you like his mom. He's like a taller, more solid version of Artie. He's kind, funny and a little dorky, with his full beard and thick glasses. He might not even be taller, you think. You haven't seen Artie standing up since you were little. He's obviously grown since then. Mr. Abrams lets you hug him until you're finished crying and then hands you a package of Pop Tarts. You give him a watery smile and duck your head into the living room and tell everyone that you're tired and goodnight. Never mind that it's only 9:00 and the movie is still playing.

Artie catches your eye and you smile sadly. You want to explain; tell him you'll be roommates a little longer, but now isn't the time. You'll wait until you've calmed down a bit, until his entire family and Tina aren't all giving you pitying looks. He'll ask you in the car tomorrow, anyway. That's when you usually do most of your talking; then, and when you're procrastinating at the kitchen table over mitochondria and cookies.

You curl up in a ball in your room and cry as quietly as you can. You hear the movie end and hear Mr. and Mrs. Abrams walk past your room, tuck Mel in and then head to theirs. You can hear Artie and Tina's hushed voices for a while before you eventually nod off.

You wake up at around three and can't fall back asleep. You shuffle downstairs for a glass of milk and notice the TV is still on, playing infomercials and turned way down. You go into the living room to turn it off and find Artie and Tina curled up together on the couch. It shouldn't surprise you; they usually end up like this after a movie. They're so close, and so deeply in denial, that they probably don't even notice how they look to the casual observer.

Although, maybe you're wrong and maybe tonight was the night Artie made his move. Maybe that's why Tina didn't go home. You know you're staring, but you can't help it. The closer you look, though, the more you notice signs that all might not be well. Tina's mascara is smeared and there are tear stains on Artie's sweatshirt.

You feel like shit thinking it, but it's almost nice to know you're not the only one with problems. You go to bed feeling sad, drained, and a little less alone.

"My dad's not coming home for Hanukkah." She tells you over toast the next morning while Artie is taking Mel to the bus stop.

You don't know the whole story; Tina isn't the most open book you've ever read. From the bits and pieces you've managed to put together, her parents are away on business a lot. They buy her nice things and hired a maid, but other than that they're pretty much absent. They want her to be a nice, well-behaved Chinese Jew and she is, despite herself. You assume the clothes are her rebellion, because Tina doesn't have a bad bone in her body.

"That sucks," you reply while trying to decide between raspberry jelly and honey for your toast, "what are you going to do?"

"Come here, I guess," she sighs, "s-s-s-same as last year. It's just… I don't know, he promised he'd be home for the whole eight days this time, and he's n-n-n-not even going to be around until Christmas."

You hadn't thought about Christmas, and the idea of not being able to go home makes your heart sink. "Well, the Abrams' are going to have a full house, I guess," you say, "my mom told me I'm still not allowed home."

"I'm sorry, Quinn," she says, and looks at you with her sad brown eyes.

You reach across the table and give her hand a squeeze. "Yeah, me too."

At school everything seems worse than usual. The Cheerios' uniforms seem brighter, the hockey team seems meaner, Mr. Shue seems way too chipper and Rachel's voice is so damn beautiful you want to stomp on her throat. You stick by Finn's side so close you could disappear into him. You ask him to take you out to dinner tonight and he promises he will.

Artie doesn't leave Tina's side for most of the day, you notice, and her eyes are still red and puffy.

A few of the glee kids give you an odd look when you hug her after practice, but you ignore them and walk out on Finn's arm.

He takes you to McDonald's and it feels normal. He talks about football and the new song Mr. Shuster wants him to learn. You ask after his mom and he tells you about the date she went on last week. It's easy and it's nice. You drive around together and hang out at the park near his house. You even make out in his car a little before he takes you back to Artie's and by the time you get there it's almost eleven.

"How is it," he asks after pulling up to the driveway, "living with them?"

"It's…" you struggle for words. How to describe your life, now? "It's really good, Finn. They're great people."

He smiles and looks relieved and his dimples are _so cute_ and you feel normal, for a minute. You kiss him again and then almost skip to the door.

Entering the house as quietly as you can, you slip off your shoes and look around the dark main floor. You see blue TV light coming from the quiet living room and tip toe inside to find Artie lying on the floor on his back, his head resting on his clasped hands. He's more staring at the ceiling than at the TV. You walk in and wordlessly join him.

"How did I never notice those before?" The ceiling is littered with glow-in-the-dark stars and your voice is quiet; barely above a whisper.

"Randy put them up there when we were kids," he says.

You nod and don't say anything else. The room is warm and quiet, the carpeting is soft underneath you and the stars are so beautiful that they rival the real thing.

You've always found silences with Artie to be comfortable, and the two of you lie there together until you lose track of time. Your mind wanders as your eyes trace patterns in the glowing stars and before you know it, tears are running from your eyes to your temples and on to the carpet. You try to stifle the accompanying sniffs, but you know he notices. You hear him shift beside you and then his fingers wrap around your hand. He doesn't say anything and neither do you for a while.

Lying there beside him you decide that he would be taller than his dad, if they could stand back-to-back.

"I'm okay," you rasp, but you don't let go of his hand. It's soft and you know it's because he wears those horrible gloves to protect them. The tips of his fingers are rough with guitar-calluses and you decide to tell him how badass that is at a later date.

"Just… distract me," you say, "tell me about your day."

The stars look blurry and you blink away more tears.

He shifts a little beside you and takes a breath in. "I kissed Tina."

It was the best thing he could have said. You sit up and excitedly clutch his hand in both of yours. "What?"

"Shh!" he hisses and gestures at the top floor of his house.

You settle down, but only a little. "When did this happen? Where? What did she do?"

He props himself up on his free arm and he's embarrassed, but smiling like he can't help himself. He shrugs. "I was dropping her off at her house and she hung back for a minute and I kind of just went for it."

It takes every ounce of self-control you have not to let out a squeal. "And??" you stage-whisper, squeezing his hand ever harder.

He raises his eyes to meet yours and his giant Artie-smile says it all. You don't quite manage to stifle the small squeal that finally escapes your mouth and you throw your arms around him, knocking him a bit off balance. He hugs you back, patting your shoulder and you find yourself unsurprised that you're _this_ happy for him.

You release him and settle back onto the carpet. It's then that you realize, there on the floor of the Abrams' living room, staring up at glowing, plastic stars, that despite your best efforts, Tina, Artie, all of the glee kids, have become more of a family to you than your own.

It sounds like a sad statement on the surface, but it strikes you that you couldn't have asked for a better family.

You know that through everything; through sectionals, regionals, maybe even nationals; through the pregnancy, the birth, the adoption; through slushies and pop tarts and musical numbers, you'll have your friends; you'll have Artie Abrams and his beautiful family and glowing plastic stars.

And that is more than enough.


End file.
